


When In Doubt... Steal A Sweet Roll

by manipulatedbyawaterbottle



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: But we love her anyways, F/F, F/M, Gen, I have a crush on all of these characters lmao, Love Triangles, Playing as I Write, The MC is a hoe, definitely, first fanfic, newbie writer, pls be kind, slow burn?, ya our mc is totally gonna cause some friction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28762410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manipulatedbyawaterbottle/pseuds/manipulatedbyawaterbottle
Summary: Initially, Nalia Lulinius made her mark by joining the small branch of the Stormcloak rebellion that had started up in Cyrodiil. Just as she starts to make her way through the ranks, the Imperial Army captures the outfit and brings them to execution. Well... things don't exactly go to plan. With her newfound freedom in an extremely foreign land, Nalia struggles to find her footing in a completely different environment with one goal in mind: return to Ulfric Stormcloak. As you can imagine, that ends up uhhh.... not lastinig so long as some "things" come in the way. One of those things being the fact that apparently she's something called "dragonborn". Haha, like that's a totally real thing...
Relationships: Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Brynjolf/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Brelyna Maryon, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ulfric Stormcloak, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas
Kudos: 5





	When In Doubt... Steal A Sweet Roll

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic I've ever written after six years of consuming fanfic, hope you guys enjoy! Also I'm not GREAT with technical skill especially on AO3.

The Riverwood Trader Had Slimy Hands.

I'm sure it's because of a medical condition. I'm almost positive of the fact. Lucan, he said his name was. Reminded me of something I might hear back home. I didn't really like to think of home too much, it just upsets me.

Anyways, this Lucan guy had some hot deals. Of course he started off conversation by hitting me with the "odds and ends... that sort of thing" phrase that he always did during my stay in town (which did get on my nerves quite a bit), but his prices were really solid, so low that even someone like me could afford some real nice things. 

The armor that Alvor had helped me make suited me well. It didn't cling to my body like a wet rag on a hot summer's day, but it didn't float on top of me either, leaving me to drown in it. It was perfect in fit, I didn't feel too restricted in movement but I felt secure enough to take on anything, even the chicken which keeps wondering the street. I almost can't help myself when I'm around that thing, just wanna pluck all of it's feathers off and gobble me whole. I think that's why Sigrid was cold with me at first, she saw my goo-goo eyes for the bird. Must have thought it was kindof a sex thing. Those two are very similar looks, you know. She warmed up to me, though, just as most people do. Started off saying some aggressive, yet complimentary, tips to me. I started to even like her a bit. 

But one absolute bitch of a person is Delphine. I'm not going to even get started on her. You know, I _could_ stay at the inn, it would be nice to have a bed and warm blankets, but instead I _choose_ to sleep on the floor of Alvor and Sigrid's house. That should tell you a lot.

This one little kid (can't even be bothered to remember the little asshole's name) keeps telling me that since I'm new around here he'll "go easy on me". Apparently a prankster, and to be honest a bad one at that. He smells like boiled eggs. He has lice. Maybe pull a head shear prank on yourself to solve that problem, buddy. 

Ok but going back to the lice thing? Ya I'm sure almost everybody I've run into so far has some kind of diseased parasite living on their head. Now, to be fair, I've only ever been in Riverwood so far, but I can tell a lot about these Nords just from this one town. They don't give a fuck. And honestly, I love that.

My goal is to make it to Windhelm, to rejoin with Ulfric Stormcloak again. I was a part of his branch back in Cyrodiil right when he was starting out. Unfortunately, word travels fast in that place. It was within two days of my joining that the guards had become suspicious and shipped us all off to Skyrim. I wonder why they took us all, the thought plagued me as I tried to drift off to sleep, it was bizarre. Prior to the siege, Ulfric revealed to me that he had reason to believe the Imperial Legion wanted to uncover us, wanted to take us North to Skyrim, and kill us. They wanted to show the Nords that they hated them, that they were expendable, weak, that they could be humiliated in a public execution to get rid of the Nords completely even though Skyrim was their land. He told me I was one of the few Imperial he could trust, that I was among one of the good ones. 

" _Maybe I'd let you set foot in Skyrim, if you can prove your allegiance to the rebellion."_

Oh, his voice still rings in my ear. The timbre resonates within my soul still, and even though I had known him for a mere two days before we were rounded up, I felt an allegiance to this man grow in my heart. As the days go by, this feeling ages, and it aches more and more. What hurts the most is that I cannot go to Ulfric straight away, not if I want to be _alive_ when I get there at least. It will take a slow, grueling process to be able to reach such a destination.

After I left Helgen, I feel like my life has been turned upside down. To relate to something more common, it has felt like waking up from a deep dream that you don't want to end. In theory, your mind should stay asleep forever, since what it wants is to continue the dream, however this is not the case. Some external force manages to reach into your entire being and change even what you know to make the most sense. Some external force forces you awake. I swear, it is almost an exact feeling.

I suppose my endless rants must be annoying you, and I'm sorry for that. I tend to ramble a lot, especially in my head, and especially when I'm nervous. I thought it was fitting though to just introduce myself. So yes, my name is Nalia Lulinius. I am descended of Imperial and Breton blood, originally from Cyrodiil but currently residing in Skyrim, Riverwood to be exact. I've had enough thinking for tonight though, I'll let my actions really finish characterizing me. I will sleep now, and talk in the morning. Don't miss me too much.

\--

The sun just about rises when I step out into the cold air, my body shivering in retaliation to the newfound breeze. Alvor steps out behind me, smiling as he adjusts himself to walk ahead and toward his forge. I clasp my hands together and make my way through the city, to the infamous trader I've grown to know. He feels like an uncle, but not like a skeevy uncle who you fear may touch you someplace a family member shouldn't touch, more like a cool ex-adventurer uncle whom you go to live with after your parents mysteriously are dead.

I step into the building across the way, the bell above the door chiming as it opens, only to find myself walk straight into the chest of some guy. He stood a bit above my height, 5'9 ish, and had a medium sturdy build. I suppose if you ran into him he wouldn't knock over, which I guess is good. He wasn't too tall or muscular when compared to other Nord men, for he lacked that certain bulk, though, I think _stocky_ would be the proper word to use in this situation. His jawline was sharp, and his hair blond. It sat just on his collar, and flicked up at the end, shinning with such a lustre that I could never have imagined a Nord to have. He had a smug grin, thick and arched brows, and cunning ice blue eyes. He seemed like, oh how do I put this nicely, a douchebag. He stepped back, obviously a bit disturbed from our encounter, and shoved his hands out.

"Watch it!"

Oh, there was that voice. I knew who this guy was now. He was the bloke who always yelled at the old woman who lived at the end of the road, his mother I now presumed. Sensible that this handsome young man still lived with his mother and still submitted to her even though he attempted to prove his dominance by shouting... it kind of fit him perfectly actually. I could tell there was something about this man that hasn't grown up, hasn't matured like normal. Mama's boy perhaps? No... daddy's boy? No, that's not it either. I had a hard time pinning where this air of pride that surrounded him came from. 

"If you lay another finger on me, I swear, the imperial guards will make their way over here and arrest you for treason! I'm Skyrim's most acclaimed bard, you should know who you're talking to."

"Don't worry, I don't dare dream of ever touching you again."

Gods that sneer just made me want to punch him out of spite, but at least that cleared a few things up. He was a _prodigy ,_ unloved by his parents for his (presumed) annoyance, yet instilled with an insane ego fueled by high society. I could just imagine young Imperial girls fawning over him had he lived in Cyrodiil; he looked like a prince from an old tale children are told. He's spoiled though, no doubt about it. After his father died, he must have inherited all his belongings as the only son and was now trying to prove to all of Riverwood that he was indeed a proper Nord man (despite lacking the stature) by verbally abusing women. 

There, I finally got him down. At least I think.

"How rude of an outsider to come into Riverwood plainly asking for trouble," he leans back and crosses his arms, observing me from a different angle. I mimic him. He furrows his brow. "I should see to it that-"

The door opens behind us as I hear the jingle of the bell one more time. I turn, to be greeted by a tall, slender Bosmer. His hair is long and gathered at the nape of his neck. He has a bow slung across his back, and a warm smile on his face. "Greetings traveler," he directs at me. He looks up, maintaining his smile. "Sven."

The man, Sven, rolls his eyes and huffs. "I knew it would only be a matter of time before you came here, Faendal."

"I wonder what you refer to-"

"Oh don't play dumb with me, Faendal. She's already gone out for the day, you needn't trouble yourself with worrying. She left early this morning, Lucan assures that she won't be here for at least another two hours."

The Bosmer smiles and bows his head. "Well met, then," he says before turning to leave. Sven groans and turns toward the counter, picking up a slice of cheese and shoving it into his mouth without hesitation. Ya, I don't think he liked that guy.

"You look like a traveler," He turns to me with a lowered guard and keen eye. "Someone that has seen far away places and heard new stories."

I nod my head slowly. "Yes," I say slowly, cautiously. I can't spot why he's being nice to me. "I'm from Cyrodiil." He bobs his head in acknowledgment. 

"I bet you're curious as to what that was. Well, Faendal thinks he can woo Camilla Velarius away from me. She's already mine, I keep telling him." 

Okay, I know what is happening now... he wants something. I probably won't object to helping him if it means a small amount of gold septims for me. He goes on.

"Camilla Velarius knows I'm the best man in Riverwood. That elf is kidding himself if he thinks she would choose him over me. I've seen him sneaking over here usually every morning to speak with her when I'm not around... he's wasting his time. "

"Yes. Two people spending time together never blossoms into courtship."

"Is that sarcasm? I've heard better wisecracks from _Orgnar_... Still, you have a point. Camilla letting Faendal visit her still isn't a good thing for me. Here, let me give you a particularly venomous letter. Say it's from Faendal. That should get Camilla to stop inviting the elf over," he hands me a folded up piece of parchment. "I tried to sneak it under her pillow but Lucan was up there sorting through a new arrival from Whiterun.

I peek at the letter and scoff in disgust.

"Oh and don't worry of the things I said in there, I truly mean nothing of the hatred of Imperials! I love Camilla after all, she is an Imperial. How could I hate your kind then? I just had to make Faendal seem evil for her." I nod my head and turn to leave. Lucan was busy upstairs, so there was no point in waiting for him to finish to talk. And besides, I had a newfound interest in turning this letter into Faendal. Let's be real here... he is doing nothing wrong. It's obvious that Camilla likes him, they see each other... plus Sven truly gets on my nerves. I don't want to ruin any town relationships, but since Sven hasn't exactly made the _best_ impression, I can't help but think this exposure is something he deserves. 

\--

I found Faendal carrying some wood out from the Mill. He looked eager to see me as I walked over to him with a smile. He greets me hello, I do the same.

"Did I see you talking to Sven? Maybe not. Maybe... nevermind. But I would stay away from him if I were you," He lowers his voice and beckons me to follow him toward the log pile. I do.

"What's his deal anyways?" I inquire as he leans over to stack the wood.

"He's a bard, so he says. Occasionally he finds time to do his job here at the mill. Thinks his ballads and sonnets are going to convince Camilla to marry him. As if she would say 'yes'. An intelligent, beautiful woman like her wouldn't fall for that nonsense... I hope." God, what's wrong with the people in this town, why is everyone such an asshole? Now this guys starting to get on my nerves too!

"You're right, when have words ever inspired feelings of love?"

He snaps back. "I don't need your jokes right now, but maybe you have a point. Maybe Camilla needs some help seeing Sven for what he is. Could you... Could you give her this letter and say- Hey! Hey! Where are you goin?"

Oh no, I'm done. They're just like each other, only at least Sven is blunt about his annoying ways. I turned to leave, Faendal following right on my tail. I'm going to tell Sven and him to work out their problems together, I won't stand for this anymore. I come across Sven standing in the road, yelling at his mother from the porch. I walk at a brisk pace, Faendal yells from behind for me to slow down, which alerts Sven of his pressence. He turns his eyes to me, and they go wide. As soon as Faendal catches up, a punch is swung to his face. The two men start to brawl in the street. At first, Sven had the upper hand in the fight, but it quickly turned round to the elf being on top, swinging and bruising the Nord underneath him. The citizens of Riverwood hearing the commotion came outside to look, to observe. Eventually Sven had gotten hit so much he started to beg for Faendal to stop.

"Mercy! Mercy! I surrender! I surrender!" But the Bosmer's relentless anger continued to come out in the form of violence. At this point the only thing that would stop his bout of rage would be a sign from Camilla herself, but she wasn't here right no-

"Faendal? Sven?" Camilla stood at the entrance to the town, her eyes wide with hurt and her hand clutching her bosom. The men scampered to stand up, straighten themselves out, but Sven has been too weakened to even stand up. He just lay pathetically on the stone path in a defeated pile.

"Camilla I can explain-" 

"Camilla, he attacked me!"

"Oh please, as if you swung not first-"

Just like that the town erupted in argument, with Sven's mother yelling from the porch that her boy was an idiot, with that jerk little kid saying this was the best entertainment he'd had in years. It seemed like there'd be no end to the yelling. 

"You should see the letter he wrote about you, Camilla! How terrible it is indeed!"

"Letter, what letter? Oh, I know just you wrote one about her!" 

"Oh no I did not, you LIAR!"

"How dare you accuse me of such-"

"GENTLEMEN!" Camilla raised her voice as she stepped in front of the feuding men. The town silenced and turned to her. "Someone must explain what is happening."

"It's her fault!" They shouted in unison, pointing at me who just stood with my feel apart and limbs limp like a dead chicken. Well shit.

"Traveller? Explain yourself? What makes of this?"

Dear Mara up above, help guide me, tell me what to do in this dire situation. Am I to tell the truth, that both men are self-centered idiots obsessed with an equally vain woman who was worthy of neither of them, or was I to pick a size and favor them? Faendal was an archer, he was hard working, and he appeared kind. It would seem well to be on the elf's good side. On the other hand, Sven was more genuine with his beliefs, not so fake in demeanor as Faendal had been. But there was something in his voice that just pissed me off to no end. Like if I had to hear it for an extended period of time I would pull my own eardrums out. I didn't know what to say, I was stuck and the whole town had their eyes on me. ME. The last time I had felt anything close to this number of gazes I was in Helgen, awaiting my execution. And before that... well I hadn't experienced anything quite like it. I had always stayed to myself, in the shadows, quiet and generally unseen. It is what Ulfric initially said he was drawn to in me, he could sense a great spirit in my soul, like a roaring fire or rumbling thunder, that I had been keeping quiet. He found it fascinating he had told me, unusual. He didn't know how such intensity yet such calmness could coexist in one being like that. Just thinking about him made my stomach hurt, made me want to go home. Suddenly the eyes on me burned like flames on my skin, I felt violently ill. But I had to say something-

"There was a dragon in Helgen, and it was headed for Riverwood last time I checked." 

The silence was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The air felt just as it usually did before a heavy rainstorm. And then, just like how thunder strikes, the outcries of fear came in one singular, ear deafening crash. 

"We must inform the Jarl! The Jarl must know!"

"I was preparing her for a trip to Whiterun." Alvor had interupted. All attention was turned to him now as the sea mellowed out. "She came her completely bare, with nothing but straw coverings and a mere dagger. She had no skills in combat. I was waiting to perhaps ready her some more for the journey..." He looked uneasily at me and sighed, I felt as though I had let him down. Of course he had known about this, I had gone to him first after arriving in the village. Now the whole population was to judge him for it. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so lazy with my training, perhaps I shouldn't have even taken training, after all, I _had_ already escaped a dragon and several guards in Helgen. He was the first person to show me hospitality in Skyrim and I had completely failed him. I felt awful. I knew I must do something to save the man's pride.

"Alvor insisted that I leave for Whiterun immediately, but I was selfish," I speak clear and loud, bringing my gaze away from the man and sweeping over the crowd of citizens. "I insisted on staying because I was afraid. I had just escaped a dragon with but an inch of my life and to venture back into the wilderness with no training or protection... oh, I feared it more than anything. But I know what I must do now, I must travel to Whiterun immediately. I have armor, I have a weapon. I am ready enough, for I know it is not far."

I know what I was doing was right, and for some reason I think that is why it stung less. I had never done such a thing before, ousted myself in such a way in front of so many people. I think it may have been the most selfless thing I've ever done...

"Well you mustn't go alone." It was Gerdur who suggested this. I hadn't had much interaction with her so far in my stay, but I could tell she had a good heart.

"I will go!" It was Faendal. He gripped his bow and stood proud.

"Oh Faendal!" Camilla cried. She ran to him and embraced him, crying lightly into his shoulder. "You mustn't leave, you mustn't... I love you too much, I shall simply _die_ without you-"

"Then _I_ will go."

_Oh Mara, oh Mara, oh MARA tell me this is NOT HAPPENING._

"Nay, Sven. It is noble of you to offer but I had already volunteered first."

It was as if the skies above themselves could sense the rising tension again, for one crack of thunder struck, and dark grey clouds covered the heavens before weeping onto the small village. Citizens groaned and retreated back indoors. All that was left outside were me and the two baffoons.

"'Tis nobler that you admit your own weakness, Sven. Admit it, you have not the strength to get to Whiterun and protect yourself and this defenseless woman."

I'm sorry what-

"Oh, Faendal, haven't you already had enough? You have everything! Wealth, talent, respect! And now even you have Camilla." I could sense something in Sven's voice that I hadn't sensed before... something I really hadn't sensed much in any of the men here, _vulnerability_. "Let me have this one thing! Let me go, I ask of you! Just this one chance to prove myself, prove that I may be worthy too, of just one thing?"

I didn't dare look over at the elf. I could sense something shift in his demeanor. I knew it must have been pity or guilt, I knew that if I had acknowledged Sven's vulnerability and how weak he had just made himself out to be by paying attention to Faendal's own giving in that it would just make matters worse. I had found something unique here in this moment that I was sure I had not picked up upon before... they had been friends before. It is what allowed for this trust in reliance to occur, I was positive of it. And to think, their friendship must have ended over just a _girl_? Camilla? Gods, how small is this town that she is the most desirable woman... no, no I shouldn't do that. I shouldn't shame her for that. Slim pickings I guess. I took it upon myself to leave the men be, and I wandered my way over to Alvor's house once more. He had been sitting at his forge, resuming his work under the porch as though nothing had just happened. But I felt a tenseness in him as soon as I had approached. 

"I am sorry, I should have been more grateful and focused on my training," I let out. He knew I was here, I could tell. He slowed his work and put down the sword he had been working on. He turned in his seat and met his gaze up to mine, and I saw the unexpected, the crystal glistening of _tears_ forming in his eyes. He smiled warmly and grabbed my hands, he had obviously been trying to maintain his composure. I felt myself weaken just then, almost enough to the point where _I_ was about to cry.

"You are a noble lass," He said softly. "There is a great power in you that I sensed right when you set foot through my door. My nephew was right in choosing you to save from Helgen." 

My eyes welled up and a tear slipped its way out the corner. I had never felt so... close to someone right now. I had never been shown such vulnerability like this, and I had _never_ even acted as emotional as I was right now. What is going on? I thought Nords were supposed to be cold, and solemn, but so far everything I thought I knew about Skyrim besides the weather has been a complete lie. 

"It is I who should be sorry, I who should be grateful. You saved me and my family from shame," he paused and nodded his head. "And you will do more than that. You will save Skyrim as well, I am certain of it."

Those words stuck with me more than anything anyone had ever said. Even more than anything Ulfric had ever said to me... Ulfric had payed me attention yes, but... was it care? I could tell now that Alvor had something in his tone that Ulfric did not. And I know what it was, yet I refuse to admit it. I probably am just forgetting what Ulfric really must have said to me as well. Divines, how could I be so careless about that.

I heard the shouting from across the road between Sven and his mother.

"And if you get yourself killed don't come crying to me for any help!"

"I will not die, mother. I swear to you on that." 

Sven approached me with a smile and a sack on his back carrying a... lute. Oh, divines bless me if this is who I will have to defend on my journey. I turned to Alvor one more time, looking into the kind man's eyes, and whispered a thank you to him, before walking down the steps and following the path out with Sven. The sky had cleared up a bit, and I stared at it intently. This was going to become a habit of mine, I could tell. The dragon in Heglen wasn't just a one time occurrence, I knew of it. It wasn't a matter of " _what if_ " a dragon would return, rather a matter of " _when_ " it would. The best I could do now was keep my eyes up, and stay prepared. 


End file.
